


when the door opened, all the grey fell into me

by aerintine



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-12
Updated: 2011-01-12
Packaged: 2017-12-12 03:58:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/806951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aerintine/pseuds/aerintine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p> Written for <a href="http://anythingbutgrey.livejournal.com/785486.html?thread=14046798#t14046798">The Very End: A Potter!Wars Comment Ficathon</a>.  Prompt from <a href="http://mollivanders.livejournal.com/profile"><img class="i-ljuser-userhead"/></a><a class="i-ljuser-username" href="http://mollivanders.livejournal.com/"></a><b>mollivanders</b> : Hermione - Post-War - <em>try as she might, she cannot find her parents.</em></p>
    </blockquote>





	when the door opened, all the grey fell into me

**Author's Note:**

>  Written for [The Very End: A Potter!Wars Comment Ficathon](http://anythingbutgrey.livejournal.com/785486.html?thread=14046798#t14046798).  Prompt from [](http://mollivanders.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://mollivanders.livejournal.com/) **mollivanders**  : Hermione - Post-War - _try as she might, she cannot find her parents._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She sits on a bench in a lush, green park in downtown Melbourne. A weathered rucksack sits beside her. She’s tied her hair back to avoid the insistent breeze. Her hands rest against the wood next to either thigh. Her shoes tossed aside, she wiggles her toes into the sun-soaked grass.

It should be easy, she thinks. Compared to everything she has wrought from the tip of her brain through the point of her wand, this should be a simple task. Recover what was lost. She lost them on purpose after all, placed them away and carefully. With a flick and a click she should be able to spring the lock. It’s second nature to her. She got this far, didn’t she? She came here, thinking she knew. Thinking that which was hers would be found.

Funny thing about _Obliviate_ charms.

The more she pushes into her mind, the more she tries to focus on them, on their faces and their smiles and their voices, the harder it is to see anything. Everything dissolves. Where there should be sharp angles and cool lines, there is only mist. But the particulars, she thinks, the particulars should be there.

She can see their office. She remembers climbing up into one of the exam chairs and swinging her legs while their assistant Janet sterilized instruments. She recalls the twin odors of steel and chemicals, can hear the hum of the autoclave. Her dad walks into the room to fetch her and then… nothing. She’s sure there is more there, but only because she’s sure that she is sure. She’s sure that when she is sure of something, she is often correct. Is that so?

She knows that when she was younger she got into some sort of accident, because she has scars down the shin of her left leg. Five of them. Shiny, white, nearly invisible now; though plain to see for anyone looking. She has the proof. But try as she may, she cannot remember how she fell. Did she fall? Or did she slam into something? Was her mum the one who bandaged the cuts? Her hands begin to tremble.

She feels warmth when she thinks about them; she knows the love there was essential to protect, to keep. In the weeks following The Battle, her eyes darted over her spell books looking, searching, hoping for the answer to the question she remembered to ask. Yes, she remembered to ask it, so they must be out there. They must. She would have forgotten to ask if they weren’t, wouldn’t she? She shifts on the bench.

She closes her eyes and tries to focus, to really concentrate. The trepidation, the anxiety of looking for them feels like staring into the sun. The longer she tries, the more it burns. Her forehead and the space between her breasts grow slick with sweat. _Work_ it has to work it has to work where are they oh god oh god oh god please no what have I done I take it back I take it back I take it

She feels pain and opens her eyes, finds herself clenching her hands so tightly she’s cut into her palms. She uncurls her fingers and stares at the angry wheals forming, neat and tidy rows. Watches tears splash and mix with the tiny beads of blood pushing their way to the surface. With a gulp of air that feels like drowning, she knows. She _knows._

 

 

They are gone.

 

 

 


End file.
